


All You Have to Do

by dozmuffinxc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dozmuffinxc/pseuds/dozmuffinxc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This ficlet was prompted by an anon on Tumblr who requested Mystrade with the quote prompt of "All you have to do is say 'yes.'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Have to Do

Greg Lestrade may not be as keen as Sherlock Holmes, but he had always prided himself on being particularly perceptive. For all the detective calls him “dull” and “slow-witted,” Greg is one of the best detectives at the Yard, and his intuition is almost never wrong.

Which is why he was gobsmacked to realize he never saw this coming.

It had been strange enough meeting Mycroft Holmes at Greg’s favorite corner café, leaning casually against the counter with his ever-present umbrella and looking for all the world as though he had just popped straight out of the pages of GQ. Stranger still was Mycroft’s greeting him by name and handing him his usual large, black coffee with two creams (no sugar) which had, apparently, been ordered in anticipation of his arrival.

 _How does he know?_

Greg thought frantically back to the dozens of interactions he had had with the elder Mr. Holmes; for the life of him, he couldn’t remember ever having drunk coffee in the man’s presence. The possibility that Mycroft Holmes was having him monitored sent a strange thrill down Greg’s spine, one that Greg was surprised to find was half-horror and half-pleasure.

“All you have to do is say ‘yes,’ Detective Inspector.”

Shaking himself, Greg realized he had missed Mycroft’s question.

“I’m sorry… yes? To what?” Greg wondered vaguely whether one was supposed to address Mycroft Holmes as “sir.”

Mycroft favored Greg with a smile of disarming warmth.

“To dinner. With me. I can have my driver pick you up at 6. I know a lovely little French place on West Smithfield.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Lestrade blurted, mentally kicking himself for the gratuitous honorific, “but are you… asking me on a date?”

“Of course, you mustn’t feel obligated. I know that our acquaintance has been limited almost completely to meetings regarding my impossible brother. If you’d rather not..."

To be fair to himself, Mycroft Holmes was related to Sherlock, and a more unpredictable human being never lived. Still, the prospect of a date with the British Government Himself was daunting, and Greg found himself floundering as he struggled for an answer. 

It was the obvious discomfort written all over Mycroft’s face that finally elicited an answer. The man was nervous, Greg realized with a start, and a wash of pity drove him, at last, to speak.

“Yes,” Greg said, stepping closer to the man in the bespoke suit and shoes. “That sounds great.”

“Really?” Mycroft replied, and Greg smiled to see that he had managed to catch the other man off-guard for once.

“Of course,” Greg said. “And if I may say so…”

Greg leaned across the counter, ignoring the bemused barista completely, to whisper in Mycroft’s ear: “It’s taken you long enough.”


End file.
